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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/25136872">#22</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Schweet/pseuds/Schweet'>Schweet</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>What Would I Even Tell Her [22]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Original Work</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Self-Hatred</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-07-07</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-07-07</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-04 11:06:44</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>457</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/25136872</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Schweet/pseuds/Schweet</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
      <p>Really disappointed in myself right now</p>
    </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>What Would I Even Tell Her [22]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1605673</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>#22</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Really disappointed in myself right now</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Hello Elizabeth</span>
</p><p>
  <span>I finally found my limit</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It is 3:18 in the morning and I just got sick in the kitchen sink</span>
</p><p>
  <span>I finally learned how much is too much, but on my own</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dizzy and unsure, I can’t count how many shots I’ve had</span>
</p><p>
  <span>At least three ounces of tequila</span>
</p><p>
  <span>At least two more ounces of tequila</span>
</p><p>
  <span>At least two fingers of rum</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Apparently that’s enough</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>I am leaning over the sink</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bile burning the back of my throat</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bastille echoing in my ears</span>
</p><p>
  <span>I’m wobbly and dizzy and my throat burns and I can barely remember throwing up</span>
</p><p>
  <span>But that memory is there, it exists, the burn in my esophagus tells me that</span>
</p><p>
  <span>-<em>I don’t think I had enough water, so I am downing it now</em>-</span>
</p><p>
  <span>I’m not sure why I’m doing this to myself</span>
</p><p>
  <span>To find a boundary maybe</span>
</p><p>
  <span>To find a consequence I’m sure</span>
</p><p>
  <span>-</span>
  <em>
    <span>I need more water</span>
  </em>
  <span>-</span>
</p><p>
  <span>My steps to the sink are quick</span>
</p><p>
  <span>I swallow warm water</span>
</p><p>
  <span>My steps back to my laptop and short and unsteady</span>
</p><p>
  <span>At least my stomach is even now</span>
</p><p>
  <span>I’m sorry that I’m telling you this</span>
</p><p>
  <span>But I have no one else to tell</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>I don’t know why I do this to myself</span>
</p><p>
  <span>I always told myself I would never drink</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Because I was already addicted to so many other things</span>
</p><p>
  <span>I knew it could never end well</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And now</span>
</p><p>
  <span>I am drinking my mother’s tequila, my father’s whiskey and rum, and my own sake</span>
</p><p>
  <span>All to chase the freedom that it brings my mind</span>
</p><p>
  <span>All to chase the speed it grants my fingers to fly across the keys</span>
</p><p>
  <span>I am drinking in my mother’s seat at the head of our dining room table</span>
</p><p>
  <span>I am keeping the dog up past his bedtime</span>
</p><p>
  <span>I am supposed to open the cafe in four hours</span>
</p><p>
  <span>I am looking for a line to cross</span>
</p><p>
  <span>I am looking for pain I am convinced I deserve</span>
</p><p>
  <span>I am looking for something it can not give me</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>I think I finally realize that now</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>As I stand at the edge of yet another cliff</span>
</p><p>
  <span>I realize I have a decision I need to make</span>
</p><p>
  <span>I can jump into the abyss below</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And relish in the feeling of the wind in my hair and the freedom of flight</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Before I slam into the rocks below</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Or</span>
</p><p>
  <span>I can walk backwards and sweat and cry as I know I will never know how it feels to fly</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Knowing I will have more mountains to climb and other cliffs to decide whether to jump off</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Refusing to let my penchant for self-destruction ruin yet another 5 years of my life</span>
</p><p>
  <span>But knowing I will never have to show my mother who I am tonight</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
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